To be Queen
by LaMarwy
Summary: For years she had plotted her revenge, conspiring against everyone who tried to keep her from the crown. Finally, everything now seems to go ahead according to plan, but all she truly wants is Igraine on her knees. Then, suddenly, Morgan realizes that hers isn't hatred at all. [FemSlash: Morgan x Igraine]
1. Prologue

Teaser, un-betaed.

Set at the end of 1x08 "Igraine"; alternative story from now on.

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Chapter 1 – Prologue

"Good morning." She said in a melodious voice. The woman sported a broad smile, proud of her own accomplishment: she did sound like a convincing double for the woman in front of her.

Igraine stared in horror. It was like looking in a mirror, with the alarming difference that her reflection was moving, talking and smiling when she was not. It was magic, it was dark and it was evil, she could sense it.

"What are you?" She breathed out, her voice shaky.

"Really, Igraine." The other snorted, rolling her eyes and losing some of her composure in the process; she didn't care, because it was early and no one was up yet to see them interact.

"Morgan?" The older woman guessed, her heart stopped for a moment. She had always sensed the dark soul of that girl, but she had never imagined she was a sorceress, like Merlin but oh-so-different too."How- why-" She stammered, her vision getting blurred as tears of fright gathered into her eyes. That girl wanted to kill her from the first time she had laid foot inside Castle Pendragon, many years ago, and now she had the chance, she would take her place and Arthur and Merlin and everyone else would be in danger. "What do you want?" She finally managed to ask, her throat constricting.

Her double let out small, elated laughter. She didn't answer right away, but she started to walk calmly around her, the small heels hitting the stones in a rhythmic and unsettling pace.

"Redwald is a cute boy, isn't he?" She said calmly, rejoicing when Igraine gasped in horror again. It was obvious she cared for him and he for her, for how tedious it had been to pretend to be a sort of mother for that orphan boy, it had been useful – and yes, maybe she enjoyed it too a little, in the end, but it didn't matter now. "There are so many kind people here too, it would be a pity if the castle would – I don't know – catch fire in the middle of the night, don't you think?" She pursed her lips, faking causality when in reality, it was very much possible and they both knew it. Camelot was still under construction and with a fire, the castle would collapse and kill them all, cornered into a fiery trap.

Igraine couldn't let that happen: she couldn't have dozens of lives on her conscience, most of all, not of her son's.  
"What do you want?" She repeated with a submissive voice; even if it was shaking, it carried some sort of determined fierceness in it. Morgan hated it.

She tightened her jaw and looked sternly right into her eyes.

Igraine now recognized that angry glare that belonged only to Morgan.

"I need you to do me a little favor." She murmured sweetly. "Go to Arthur and say to him that you're moving back to Castle Pendragon." She smiled, looking both graceful and demanding. It was Igraine's most powerful weapon and Morgan wondered if it would work on her own person too; Igraine bewitching herself, that would be hilarious. "Tell him that it's your real home, that you want to keep an eye on me because Merlin asked you to, I do not care – just do it." She ordered.

Igraine couldn't believe her own ears: she wasn't going to die and Camelot wasn't even in danger – not in imminent danger at least – for Morgan intended to move back to Castle Pendragon with her. It was the least expected thing, considering their past.  
Maybe she would lock her up and throw away the key, she would torture her and let her die of starvation. But no, Arthur could've asked to come to visit them any time, so to keep her secret intact, Morgan had to have a more refined plan in mind – she wondered what was it.

"Why?" She breathed out in confusion.

Morgan's smile died on her face and Igraine was forced to stare at her own image giving a stern look at herself.

"That's none of your concern." The other replied, averting her eyes. Then, she turned again and walked closer to her. She smiled sweetly and her fingers grazed her cheek with a ghostly touch. Morgan's tenderness surprised her. "See you at home, Igraine. Soon, what games we will have."


	2. Castle Pendragon

Un-betaed. Please leave a review! :)

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Chapter 2 – Castle Pendragon

Igraine took a deep breath, looking at the land that surrounded the castle from the window.  
She remembered all, from the small river far at east, to the willow forest in the northern territory.

She barely remembered, though, the journey of the previous day, the one that brought her to Castle Pendragon. Igraine had gone to Arthur and convinced him that her place wasn't at Camelot; somehow, he agreed and Merlin reluctantly gave in. She was surprised that she wasn't escorted, or maybe she had been because there were rumors that carrying the Pendragon flag wasn't a sufficient talisman against bandits anymore. She had to admit that she felt betrayed by her own people, letting her go on her own, right into the serpent's nest, but in their defense, Morgan had proved herself loyal and obliging, her true intentions covered by magic. They all fell for her machinations.

Perhaps she could really work from within and help Arthur and Merlin. Maybe she could really deceive Morgan, for as impossible it might've seemed – trying to go against a sorceress, maybe that was the dumbest thing she could think of, but honestly, what else she could do?

Igraine paced slowly through the corridors, and time seemed to stop. For years she'd walked those floors, for years that had been her home; she had given orders, feasts, she'd spent nights at Uther's side and now she was nothing more than a guest, or a prisoner, to be precise.

Morgan liked to tease her, but she tried her best not to give her any satisfaction. She had given her her old room, the one she once shared with her father, the one in which Uther died by her hand. She wasn't given any maid, nor any food as far as she remembered, and now her stomach was grumbling in protest, but Igraine wasn't expecting anything different.

She smiled tentatively to anyone she stumbled upon and felt terrible when no one replied with kindness. She thought of running to the gates, stealing a horse and going back to Camelot, but being free in her prison was no matter to be taken lightly; Igraine knew better than that.  
Morgan had plans. Her job would be to uncover them, or at least, try to.

Igraine walked her way to the great hall, where Morgan was elegantly seated on the throne looking confident and powerful. Before her, the table was filled with fruit and hot dishes for breakfast; she had to admit that she had missed Castle Pendragon's meals and felt quite odd in front of all that opulence when at Camelot they had much less.

Morgan didn't even seem to acknowledge her, continuing to densely chat with her nun, waving every food she'd been offered with a dismissive frown.

Igraine was getting frustrated and even though she knew that that woman was only trying to get on her nerves, she yielded and played her game.

If Morgan had decided to ignore her, she would ignore her too. Even if she had been banned from it, that was still her Castle, after all.

She sat down at the only chair available by the table and gracefully started to eat. She kept her stoic composure when she heard that the soft murmur coming from her back had suddenly stopped and continued chewing on some nut loaf.

"What do you think you're doing?" Morgan's voice echoed through the room.

Igraine drank slowly from her cup before turning to her.

"I thought I was your guest, Morgan." She replied, giving her the sweetest smile. "I don't see shackles on my wrists." She pointed out.

Morgan glared at her, rolling her eyes as she sighed loudly.

"Don't test me, Igraine." She warned, narrowing her eyes.

Suddenly, the older woman felt all her boldness sliding off her body like melted wax. She felt exposed, trapped and she wondered if it was one of her many powers or if it was just her, realizing how much she could do, see how far her powers could go.

Why would she keep teasing her? Why would she just killed her and get over with her bloodthirst and vengeance? Why would she keep her alive in the first place and why did she think she could control everything so easily? There were many flaws, apparently, but Morgan wasn't stupid. Being unable to at least guess her plans was driving her mad: why leaving her free to wander around the castle, why was she so sure she wouldn't cause any problem?

"Then why don't you keep me in chains?" She inquired, her glance demanding. Wouldn't it be easier to keep her captive in the dungeons and bring her out at need? Igraine could run away, she could even set the castle on fire – why Morgan looked so confident, unworried by all the possibilities and bothers she might've caused?

Morgan let out a peel of laughter.

"Why would I?" She asked rhetorically, shrugging her shoulders dismissively.

Igraine stared blankly back at her. There were so many things she could do, but the first thing that came to her mind was fleeing. Wasn't self-preservation one of the basic instinct?

"To keep me from running?" She asked in a dim voice.

Morgan smiled sweetly at her. Her angelic expression made Igraine's stomach constrict: she always had that innocent look on her face, since she was a little girl, but now that she knew that she was concealing a devil inside, everything had gained a different meaning.

"Oh, I know you won't." She said confidently. "Come." She added then, bending forward into her throne and beckoning her with crooking twice her forefinger.

Igraine started at her, immotile. She felt that every eye in the room was on her, studying her movements, wondering whether she would follow Morgan or ignore her still, ultimately testing her wrath. The woman reluctantly left her chair and walked, closing the distance with the mistress of the castle.

Behind the throne, there were little wooden buildings that resembled villages, castles, and lands of Britain; it reminded her immediately of Redwald, his daily games and for a moment she wondered if the boy would miss her. She thought it was another of Morgan's tricks to tease her, until she noticed the biggest one, in the middle, bearing a quite familiar shape.

"It's Camelot." She whispered in a daze.

"Of course it is." Morgan confirmed and, apparently carelessly, she poked one of the wooden soldier placed on the nearest hill. "You really didn't think I'd left my dear brother's castle unguarded?" She mocked.

"You have them in your grasp." Igraine whispered in horror. The castle, the soldiers, the surrounding lands and the hills were detailed. She wondered if it was created by magic.

"One order of mine and my finest archers will set Camelot on fire." Morgan smiled proudly, basking in the other woman's defeated expression. "You could try to run away, but you know better than me, Igraine, that we have the fastest falcons in Britannia and every message travels quick. Camelot would turn to ashes before you're even half-way through." She pouted, taunting her. "And then all your efforts would be incredibly futile, don't you think?"

So that was the reason why Morgan was so confident and arrogant: she had them all in her hold and she was the only one to know the truth. Igraine had no other choice if not oblige her in her every request. As things were, she was superior – her step-daughter could actually win.

"Oh, Morgan." Igraine breathed out, utterly impressed and therefore terrified. "You are a fine tactician." She conceded, then raised her eyes and locked her glance into hers. She saw so much of Uther in her, she was smart as much she was ruthless. She was stronger, she was more determined than Arthur – but he was trying to make a different kingdom, one based on loyalty and honor, so different from the past, while Morgan only knew how to rule with violence and blood, just like her father. "You would make an extraordinary king." She said sorrowfully, speaking the painful truth.

Morgan smiled broadly.

"That I already know, Igraine." She replied, serene.

So that was her plan: trap Camelot, letting them think she saw loyal and inoffensive when in truth she was ready to kill them all when she pleased. Of course, to gain people's trust and rightful wear the crown, she couldn't just set everything on fire on a whim, but she would have if things would get rough. With Arthur's death, the only relative alive to inherit the crown would be her, but that was too easy for Morgan.

Igraine imagined that she intended to humiliate her half-brother, taking the crown under his nose, only to enhance her power and success. Wasn't revenge what she sought, in all its forms? After all, it was exactly what she was doing with her, already.

Still, she could have taken others, instead of her. Guinevere, for instance, but still she'd chosen her. Morgan had taken the opportunity, but there was something more specific about her choice and Igraine could feel it. She had no reason to treat her that good, giving her old room, letting her dine at her table – to her right no less – if she hadn't something in mind.

Igraine followed the slow movements of the other woman with her glance, how she walked, how she lifted her dress to sit back on her throne, ready to welcome the people from outside to hear them, offering them the best she could give.

"Morgan, why am I here?" She asked befuddled, walking closer to her.

The other woman didn't bother to turn and face her. She just let out a sigh, after which her lips bent into a peaceful smile.

"You're the heart of Camelot, Igraine." She stated. "Castle Pendragon needs a heart too."

The former queen stared blankly at her for a moment. She was about to welcome her people like a real queen like she herself used to do – and, imagined, Morgan's mother too, when she was alive. She was wicked, but as she knew, also smart: she wanted to gain the people's trust in the old way, but she didn't have enough experience. She was doing her best, but clearly, Morgan felt that her best wasn't enough.

"You want me to teach you?" Asked Igraine in befuddlement. If she indeed gained the people's heart, she would have everything, all odds on her side.

Surprisingly, Morgan snorted.  
"Don't tempt me." She mocked, then her face fell serious. "No. you were already Castle Pendragon's heart once, you shall be it again."

"What?" Igraine stammered even more confused than before. What was she offering? A place by her side? To what end? Why would she ever accept to conspire against her own son and Merlin? That was madness.

Morgan was staring somewhere right in front of her, then her face frowning and she started to talk, seemingly to herself, like she was thinking aloud.  
"Camelot offer wars, battles." She mumbled, almost disgusted. "Arthur and his little army are fighting against every threat without thinking, without responsibilities, like bulls on heat."

Igraine fell silent. Sometimes, she thought that too: they were too impulsive. They had tried, once, to be a real court, but they abandoned the idea soon after, rather focusing on extending the territory.

"Arthur is not suited to be king." Morgan continued. "He's merely a puppet into Merlin's hands." She shook her head. Igraine agreed, on some level, but of course, she couldn't tell that to her. "We, on the other hand, can offer an army, but also so much more." She added, her voice becoming stronger and passionate. "We can offer shelter, protection by the finest men, we can offer growth, a future for everyone, a home." She paused, then nodded to herself. "They'll turn to us, in the end."

Igraine had listened. Without even realizing it, the door of the great hall opened.

The people were welcomed by Lady Morgan, on the throne, and much to her dismay, former queen Igraine standing right by her side.


	3. Revelations

Un-betaed. Please leave a review! :)

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Chapter 3 – Revelations

Morgan took a deep breath, letting her lungs expand to their full as the cold air from the morning invaded her nostrils. She padded undisturbed through the castle, enjoying the quietness of the hollow corridors and rooms, for everyone were still asleep, being so early.

Few guards were manning the main entrances for safety reasons and she wisely avoided them, easily slithering through the passages toward her chambers. She was looking forward to having her bath, clean the mud and the smell of the forest off her skin, put on one of her dresses and sit on the throne to play the queen for the rest of her day, nodding and judging people while her mind wandered on her many plans and how to get to the crown.

She'd almost arrived when a soft pacing made her tense. It wasn't the quiet walk of Vivian, nor the hurried and heavy feet of Sybil, that walk was light and confident, which could only belong to a queen or a former one. She didn't quite manage such a walk yet.

"Where have you been?" Inquired Igraine and her voice echoed through the hollow corridor.

The younger woman spun on her heels, trying not to show her surprise and uneasiness. It was quite alarming to see that woman out of her room so early in the morning, fully dressed and looking impeccable; to be honest, Morgan didn't remember one time she saw Igraine slightly disheveled, while she, on the contrary, was padding through the castle practically wearing nothing and with her hair down, knotted by the wind. Anyone who saw them could've easily separated the queen from the fraud, and it got on her nerves.

"None of your business." She replied dryly.

Igraine sighed, sounding almost vexed. She crossed her hands gracefully in front of her and took a good look at her; suddenly, Morgan felt naked under her clear eyes.

"You're wearing that thin cloth and you're barefoot."

The younger woman instinctively held her own elbows, curling her toes as she looked with the corner of her eye at the muddy footprints she'd left behind her. Somebody would naturally mind those, but that wasn't the point.

"You went to the woods?" Guessed Igraine, giving her a perplexed glance.

Morgan tightened her jaw and in a motion of sudden rage, she closed the distance with her.

"Yes, why?"

The former queen frowned, gasping in confusion.  
"You can't just go in the woods-" She stammered, her face bearing the signs of dismay. Morgan could almost read her mind: Igraine thought she was unworthy, acting like a spoiled girl and wandering into the woods with no purpose, which wasn't how a proper queen should behave. She could feel her judgment, or so she thought. "You're going to catch a cold!" She scolded surprisingly.

Morgan was taken aback.

"Why do you care?" She snorted, half diverted and half shocked.

Igraine herself seemed to have said something she didn't intend; she was shaking her head dismissively. Everything she could say would end up sounding wrong: she could really say anything and turn out like the recommendation of an apprehensive parent. Morgan was right: she shouldn't have cared for her, not in the least. And yet Igraine was there.

If dark magic hadn't been involved, if she hadn't threatened the whole Camelot, if she could be sure that not only lies were coming from that lips and if that would've been a fair fight, she would likely stand up to her plan, devoting body and soul to Morgan's ideal kingdom.  
Of course, she couldn't admit it in front of her, because her victory would be too great.

If only she could support Morgan, show her a better way. Maybe she could cooperate with Arthur and merge their plans, to rule Britannia together: the best of the two siblings, with no more fighting, rushes to the crown, feuds.

"I care because I listened to you, yesterday." Whispered Igraine, getting some of her confidence back. "If you could just abandon your evil doings and talk to Arthur about your plans, you could-"

"Say no more, woman." Morgan snapped, glaring at her. "You're here for a purpose and your loyalty is to me, from now on." She reminded her. She could've done so many awful things to her, instead she chose to have her by her side; yes, it was for personal gain, nonetheless, she had given the former queen a prominent role within her court. She only had to show the woman her gratitude, so when Morgan moved closer to her, the other bowed slightly her head, obliging. "Know your place, Igraine."

She lifted her head only when she was sure that Morgan was locked inside her chambers. Her place was now by her side, apparently, and Igraine didn't need anything else.

...

Igraine woke up in the middle of the night to some horrid screams coming from afar.  
At first, she thought it was the wind, howling loud in the valley as the storm raged outside. The rain was pouring against the windows and the soothing sound was sometimes followed by the flash of a thunderbolt. She curled up in her blankets, trying to find another comfortable position when she heard it again.

She frowned and decided to investigate the source of such noise.  
She thought she needed to visit the dungeons, already imagining the horrors she could find there: in the past, she only went down there once in her life, to free a very young Morgan from one of her father's punishment; Igraine doubted she even remembered it, beaten up as she had been. To be honest, Morgan had every right to hate her parent. From the first moment, she had tried to befriend the king's daughter, but as a substitute for her own mother, Igraine's efforts had never been enough, and then she was sent to the nunnery.

Igraine sighed, warding off those painful memories, and cloaked her shoulders with the closest robe. She had carried some of her clothes with her, but Morgan had provided her a whole new wardrobe, similar to hers even if a little less flaunty.  
The woman tried to remember the quickest way to the dungeons as she quietly stepped out in the corridor. She peeked in both directions before slipping out of her room and closing the door behind her. Igraine started to tiptoe, but again she heard that noise and she halted: she was going in the wrong way, in fact, it was coming from behind her, echoing through the hollow corridor like the lament of a ghost.

Igraine gathered all her boldness and followed it to its source.

She eyed cautiously all the closed doors, guessing in which the nun would be and which one would be empty. The wails intensified and Igraine's head snapped up when she finally found the last door and remembered in a flash that that lonely room belonged to Morgan.

She wondered why she had chosen her old room when she could have a bigger and more comfortable place to be in, basking in those awful memories of her childhood rather than creating new ones in other larger chambers, more suitable for a queen. Again, though, she shouldn't have cared.

Igraine got closer, leaning slightly toward the door, waiting for another noise.

When she heard another tormented grunt, she pushed the door, surprisingly finding it open, so she slipped in.

Igraine stood for a moment without moving a muscle, her heart racing like never before: she knew she shouldn't have been in there and quite honestly she didn't even know what she was doing.

Morgan was tossing herself in her sleep, her bed reduced into a shapeless mass of sheets, blankets, and furs in which her body was entangled.

The older woman watched, transfixed. Even as a girl, she had always been afraid of storms and Uther had hated her for it, ordering to let her scream alone until she would overcome her meaningless fears on her own. It was heartbreaking how, even as a grown-up woman, she would still suffer the consequence of being neglected by her father.

Igraine felt guilty. She had never fought Uther about his decision on how to treat his daughter, she had never interfered, not even when, perhaps, Morgan just needed help. She had never been an attentive step-mother – the girl never allowed her to –, she was still being held as a prisoner and forced to cooperate with the enemy, she shouldn't feel any compassion for her. But she was a human being, overall, a lost and lonely one too.

"Morgan?" She tried, timidly at first, but of course, the woman couldn't hear her, so caught in with her nightmares like she was. "Morgan!" She spoke up again, more confident this time, and when she got nothing more than another anguished lament as an answer, Igraine walked by her bed to shook the agitate woman by her shoulder. "Wake up!" She demanded, her voice low and firm.

Morgan tossed around again, until, finally, her eyes snapped open.

Igraine immediately flinched off, suddenly scared by the furious expression on her face, which also carried the shadow of utter frighten, confusion and rage. She tried to calm her down by putting both of her hands before her, into a sort of surrendering position, but it didn't work, not in the least.

"What are you doing in my chambers?" Roared Morgan, her voice quivering and weary by the prolonged shrieking. "Get out!" She ordered, looking frantic as she tried to sit up.

Igraine felt particularly irked for a moment. She hardened her glance, showing no intentions to move.

"You were screaming in the middle of the night and nobody bothered to check on you, Morgan, you should think about that." She snapped back. Igraine drew a short breath, wondering if she should offer some apologies and run off to her room to avoid her jumping to her neck and kill her, but then all her thoughts got washed away when she noticed that Morgan was drenched in her own sweat and her neck and chest were visibly flushed.

"They know I don't want to be vexed while I sleep." Morgan lied, her breaths short. Actually, it was quite alarming that no one had come, no one except for Igraine. Where was Vivian? Or Sybil? Wasn't her room the closest now? And why that woman was giving her that peculiar look? She didn't like it.

Igraine sighed and much to Morgan's dismay, she took a sit on the edge of her bed. She stared in disgust, thinking of warding her off, call for the guards, anything, really, to have her away, and yet there was something in her manners that just left her speechless. It was that innate glow that Igraine had that made her special, a royal, something that made her superior and listened to, something that Morgan lacked.

"I told you, you would catch a cold." She whispered and soon after she raised her hand, cupping her cheek just like a mother would do.

Morgan glared, chasing away her hand with her own, with all the force she could manage.

"Leave me alone." She murmured. "I don't need your help."

Igraine sighed again, staring at her features. Maybe it hadn't caught a cold at all and maybe the nun was aware of her necromancy and all those screams were consequences of sorcery, which couldn't be used without paying a price, as Merlin told her, and that price was personal suffering and punishments, as long as she knew.

The woman felt ashamed. If only she would've spoken up when it wasn't too late, maybe she could've saved her from that horrible life she had, since she was barely more than a girl. And then again, when she returned home, she hadn't said a word, not even one.

"I should have done more." She whispered, bowing her head in guilt.

Morgan could read her thoughts right away.

"Yes." She agreed, her glance was unforgiving. "You should have. But the nunnery made me powerful." She stated proudly, her eyes glimmering with savagery like a wild predator.

Igraine stared back at her, unaffected. She had so much potential in her and she was walking on the wrong path, fulfilling her desires with tricks and deceptions.

"You don't need the black arts to be strong, Morgan." She lectured and the other tightened her jaw irritated. Igraine shook her head, sighing in defeat. "Send you to the nunnery was the worst idea I had in my whole life." She murmured.

Morgan was at her in a blink. She didn't even have the time to flinch back before their faces were inches apart.

"You?" The younger woman rasped in disgust, her face crumpling up with fury. "You're the reason while I was exiled?"

Igraine nodded in fright.

"Uther wanted you dead." She justified with a small voice, to which Morgan gasped in confusion, flinching back herself. "He couldn't bear the thought of having a daughter as heir and he wanted you killed. I persuaded to spare you and send you to the nunnery across the sea, instead." She told.

Morgan stared in shock.

"You? Saved my life?" She said without emotion, then she burst into a hearty laugh. It was amusing: the woman she hated for so long was, in reality, the reason why she breathed. Even if she had never done anything directly to help her, she still had managed to defend her, somehow, from the rears.

"I wish I would've done more." Sighed Igraine, giving her a timid smile.

Even if she didn't want to, Morgan thought about forgiving her, just for an instant. That woman was without magic and still she was able to charm her and bend her to her will. If that was what to be a Queen meant, then she would learn and absorb the craft from her.

"You can redeem yourself." Morgan smirked. "Help me build my kingdom."

Igraine stared at her. She could still work from the inside and guide Morgan to unity. She was a smart woman, and maybe, in the end, she would see what was truly best for Britannia.

She smiled, obliging, and lifted again her hand. When she tentatively reached out to feel Morgan's forehead, this time she didn't move, leaning into her hand too, closing her eyes.

"Let me take care of you, then."


	4. The Feast

Un-betaed. Please leave a review! :)

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Chapter 4 – The Feast

As days went by, Igraine felt the role of Castle Pendragon's heart more and more suitable for her. Being at Lady Morgan's right didn't provide her much power in matter of decisions and politics, but she could feel that the people were much more inclined to tell Morgan their problems when she was by her side; the fact that they were women was to her advantage: everyone felt at their ease, something she never experienced in Camelot.

Slowly, she was realizing that Morgan was right about many things. With Arthur, it was never about the people, it was always a matter of strength and conquest: his priorities were the territories and his army of knights, he only thought of expanding the lands, leaving everything behind. The people flocked at Camelot without really gaining any protection, just a broken roof over their heads.

Morgan may be a sorceress, her only goal may be the crown, but in the meanwhile she was listening to the people, assembling a fine army, giving a shelter to those in need, promising peace and a future for them all, in her court, in the new villages she intended to build, only to make her kingdom flourish. Arthur, instead, couldn't see much further than his nose.

If only she thought about the greatness they would accomplish together, he and she, Igraine felt a deep sense of fury stirring her insides. With Arthur's knights and Morgan's mind, they would build the greatest kingdom ever existed – the only one who could guide them and unify the two siblings in conflict was Igraine herself.

So, when after a few weeks, Morgan organized a feast for Arthur, inviting the whole court, Igraine saw the opportunity she was waiting for.  
At first she frowned when her son accepted right away, with everything going on in the lands, but that was typical Arthur, being too impatient for some leisure activities rather than face his responsibilities; he was young, but Morgan, being only a few years older than him, knew much better and turned regularly her son's weakness to her advantage.

She actually felt a little ashamed for Arthur's ingenuity, but that only made her believe in Morgan more, unfortunately: she was stronger, more capable.

Igraine walked steadily by her side as they approached the gates, welcoming the king and his squad. Arthur rushed to her immediately, hugging her close, then he kissed his sister's hands, while she took him inside, chatting densely with him like old friends.

Igraine felt Merlin's eyes straight away studying her body entirely. She wondered if it was just for her looks: Morgan had chosen for her a similar dress to the one she was wearing, actually making them look akin in their partnership. The sorcerer said nothing and followed the king in silence, his mind at work.

Igraine was battled. On one hand she wished for Merlin to find out Morgan's effective machinations, but on the other hand, she just really wanted for her ideal kingdom to become a reality. If only she could be sure to convince one of the two to actually collaborate plainly.

The feast was loud and rich, like always at Castle Pendragon. Morgan would lively chat with her brother while she was confined by her side, far away from Merlin and anyone else. It was funny how she often tried to get Arthur to talk about politics and strategies, but he always laughed the matter off, changing subject; Igraine wondered if it was Merlin's order not to talk about battle plans or was just Arthur avoiding tedious speeches: during her stay in Camelot, she'd learned how impulsive her son was, always looking for action and the quickest way to get things done. Morgan was more reflective and thus a better strategist. She wouldn't admit it out loud maybe, but he had so much to learn from his sister.

They talked about Camelot briefly and Merlin took the occasion to update her about Redwald's improvements: he was learning how to ride and how to use his wooden sword, so one day he will be the champion's king. Igraine smiled at that, wondering if that boy would be pleased to be the queen's champion as well.

When it was time for them to leave, Igraine wondered what the purpose of all that truly was. Morgan often could see further than herself. Maybe she just wanted to show the people that the Pendragons were united and fearless, if that was that, it had been a clever move.

Arthur rose up from his chair and after a quick toast to thank his sister's hospitality, he expressed his will to talk to her mother in private. Igraine felt Morgan's stare all over her body as she smiled sweetly, grant that request almost immediately, without even flinching. It was like she could see everything before it even happened.

Igraine followed her son to the closest room, a quiet one, enlightened by candles and the silver light coming from the moon outside. In a matter of seconds, Merlin joined them.

Arthur stopped with his incessant questions about the castle and her health and happiness and left the word to the sorcerer.

"What are you doing?" He asked with an accusatory tone. Merlin was acting strange, moving his hands like he was touching some sort of invisible material that cloaked her figure.

"What do you mean?" Retorted Igraine, looking at them both. "I'm watching Morgan as I told you the day I left." She answered, her voice quivering a little. She honestly couldn't remember exactly on which terms she had left Camelot, but she guessed it was for good reasons because apparently, they let her easily go.

"It seems like you've integrated very well." Whispered Arthur, looking straight into her eyes. His voice was low, full of sadness and defeat. It broke her heart to see him like that, but he also needed to man up, isolate his sorrow to better lead his people. Morgan had been so lonely for so long and she had become unfazed, while Arthur was almost dependent by everyone around him. Perhaps some time apart would serve him good.

Maybe he would understand what it was really like to wear the crown. Arthur was not even close to being as ruthless as his father Uther – he had no idea what it really meant.

"You should try and listen to Morgan for once." She whispered dryly.

Merlin was immediately in front of her, studying from up close, sniffing her neck as a dog searching for its prey. He thought Morgan had charmed her? She didn't need tricks to make her see the sad truth, unfortunately.

"Are you with her, now?" Asked the sorcerer in disgust.

"She has plans." Igraine replied. The last thing she wanted was to take away the crown from her son's head, but really, they needed to cooperate: Arthur had so much to learn still, and Morgan would never let go.

"She has you brainwashed." Merlin snapped. "Wake up, Igraine!" He continued, yelling into her face.

She was glad that the music and the loud voices, coming from the great hall, would've probably covered his indecent screams. She hated to admit it, but since she was at Castle Pendragon, no one had ever yelled her what to do, if not for Morgan, who was entitled, in a way, after she invaded her chambers in the middle of the night.

Merlin was raging, Arthur was looking at her like she was delusional.  
Igraine never felt more humiliated in her life.

"Come back at Camelot." Arthur pleaded out of the blue. "People rely on you, we need you there."

Igraine looked at his desperate face. So Morgan was right: she had been the heart of Camelot and now it was just falling to pieces. Guinevere was the closest thing that could've taken her place, but of course, she had problems of her own and the heart of a castle should have also been true and strong, something she was most clearly not.

If she indeed had gone back with them, Arthur would have never understood the gravity of the situation. Everything would be back to that fake normality and the feud would go on forever while the kingdom died under their eyes.

Merlin was just too present in her son's life. She needed another approach: she needed to speak to Morgan, talk sense into her. Now she could see everything clearly.

"No." She replied boldly. "My place is here now." It pained her to say so, but it was just as things were. She had been given an opportunity and she would have taken it. Everyone's devotion was to a better and safer Britannia first, hers too.

"But you're my mother." Arthur retorted, hardening his stare.

It was a soft spot for her because she had never been able to be a mother for him, but she resisted again.

"I'm supposed to be her step-mother also." She pointed out. "She needs a guide." Igraine smiled convincingly, after all, that was the plain truth. "Trust me, Arthur: I can get through with her. You'll become a better ruler." That was what she kept repeating to herself; but was it really the truth, still? At first, she thought cooperation between siblings could bring the kingdom to a new era and then Arthur would be capable enough to rule by himself. Yet now, she wasn't so sure anymore. Really, she was doing all that just to let her son prevail, in the end? Was really a king better than a queen?

...

It was late at night when Igraine was summoned into Morgan's private chambers.

She was peacefully laying on her rug, propped against some pillows in front of the fire. She had her the pipe between her teeth and the acre smell of the smoke was lingering around her.

Igraine waited for her call before stepping fully in.

"I want to know what you talked about in that room, with Arthur and Merlin." Morgan said, her voice inexpressive.

The other walked to her, kneeling on the rug beside her, sitting on her heels. Morgan sighed, irked, while she was still slouching on the pillows, Igraine was once again behaving like a proper woman, even if there was no one in that room except for them. It was like she was trying to prove her something and Morgan couldn't bear it.

"They asked me to return to Camelot." She answered sincerely.

The younger woman snorted.

"Oh, they miss you." She smiled, bemused, then exhaled a thin thread of smoke from her lips.

"They need me to keep Camelot together." Igraine confessed. Tears started to prickle the corner of her eyes: why would she even say that to her? Did she really bewitch her? Morgan was waiting for it to happen and she was telling her about the success of her plans. Igraine was questioning her true loyalty by now.

Surprisingly, Morgan wasn't gloating. She was staring right through her, instead, her glance serious and firm.

"They asked you to return to Camelot and you said no, why?" She inquired, her voice demanding.

Igraine blinked in confusion, her lips parted into a silent gasp. Why did she ask such a thing? Wasn't it obvious, when she owned and moved all the strings in her life?

"Because I couldn't!" She spat, matter-of-factly. "You would've killed them all, set Camelot on fire!" As she said those things, it all sounded extremely odd. In fact, she could see that Morgan's threat to burn Camelot wasn't even essential anymore to keep her there, bound to her will.

Morgan drew a long breath from her pipe, then she placed it on the closest stand, which was a carved log turned into a sort of table.

"Tell me the truth, Igraine." She admonished. "You stayed because you wanted to."

The former queen stared in silence, feeling naked again. Morgan had seen right through her once more. Her intention may be different from what she may be thinking, but she was right when she said that she chose to stay.

There was no reason to keep her idea for herself, anymore. She would've talked to her anyway, one day or the other, then, why not now? Morgan was clever, she could understand. Maybe she would even agree with her.

"I think you would be a suitable ruler for this kingdom," She confessed, her voice dim and cautious. "you could teach Arthur a lot." When she noticed that Morgan was in fact listening, she spoke more confidently, shifting quietly on the furs to get closer to her. "If you could be crowned king and queen of Britannia, together, you could-"

Morgan had lifted her hand, shushing her instantly.

"Save your breath." She barked. "I won't share the crown with that idiotic son of yours, Igraine." She turned to her, giving the other a fake, innocent smile. "No offense." Morgan snorted, shaking her head and straightening her back slowly. "Arthur is not worthy to stand by my side. You think me stupid?" Igraine swallowed the lump in her throat; she could say many things about Morgan, but not that she was stupid, not in the least. "Let's say Merlin agrees, which I find hard to believe, as soon as Arthur finds a wife to replace me, he'll rip the crown off my head in a blink – no. I can't let that happen."

Igraine studied her for a moment. It was as if she could see all the cogs inside her brain work intensely around her many plans, adjusting them to every situation so she could always be prepared. Maybe there were other ways to accomplish her ideal kingdom, ways that she couldn't even see. In time, perhaps, Morgan would try them all and she needed to be there to guide her.

It may be sounded crazy, but Igraine needed to have faith in her brain, confiding that one day she would find the best path to build the best kingdom.

"If you don't want to share it, that's fine." She shrugged at one point, getting Morgan's attention. "But just know that you don't need the crown to be powerful or respected." She remarked, touching one sore point. Wasn't it what she truly wanted? Perhaps she could be content with being Lady Morgan, the one who everyone went to when they needed help. She may not be wearing the crown, but in a way, she would be even more loved and influential than the king himself. "Besides, Merlin's charm is too great, he will always find a way to make Arthur shine." Morgan was glaring at her, but Igraine forced herself to remain calm. Yes, the better way to fulfill her plans wasn't by strength, but that Morgan already knew. She might as well tell her something impossible, just to make her realize how much effort she needed to put in her machinations to surprise them and move an ideal attack from the side. Igraine shrugged dismissively. "The only certain way you could ever become a queen is to give birth to a king – and I don't see that happening any time soon." She innocently mocked.

Contrary to what she was expecting, Morgan had frozen with a broad smile painted on her lips, her glance lost somewhere in a daze, as she had just given her the most wonderful idea.

"What did you just say?" She asked, her voice an elated whisper.

Igraine snorted in disbelief. All those years in the nunnery and they had taught her nothing about terrain matters. That poor woman was clueless about the basic things in life, even on how it was created. She had her deepest sympathies; Morgan was like wax to shape on that matter – she indeed needed a guide or a mother.

"Morgan, you can't just snap your fingers and make it happen." She said, smiling kindly.

But the other was staring back at her, stoic.

"Try me." She replied with a mischievous voice, at which the older woman frowned in confusion; her face fell serious. Maybe she had thought wrong about her.

Igraine didn't move, her breaths small and erratic when Morgan's reddish lips crashed against her own, kissing her softly.


	5. Magic

Un-betaed. Please leave a review! :)

* * *

Chapter 5 – Magic

It was late at night when Morgan pulled herself up in her bed. The fur slid off her body and the static air of the room hit her bare skin in a cool embrace. She sighed with a spent smile, curling her toes as she stood up, slowly walking toward the wide wardrobe in the corner.

Morgan opened the closet doors and stood in silence as the fire from the mantel cast flickering shadows on the shelves inside. Dozens of weird looking bottles reflected the light upon the glass surfaces, half-hidden behind twigs of dry flowers and herbs tied up in ropes.

Her blue eyes, dilated because of the darkness, wondered on the ledge where a fine assemblage of daggers stood aligned; she marveled for a moment at those shining blades, and then she finally took what she needed: she grasped the mortar, some herbs, a bag with black dust in it and, last, a long porcupine quill.

She settled everything down on the rug in front of the mantel and took a cup from the counter, spilling wine it had inside between the dancing flames. The fire crackled and she filled the cup back with some clear water; then, she put the cup down too.

Morgan then smiled, the drowsiness now completely gone and sat on the edge of the bed where, on the usually empty side, now laid Igraine, flat on her stomach. The woman stood immotile for a moment, taking her in, basking into the quietness of her regular breaths, the smoothness of her pale skin, somewhat more bronzed than hers, still. She could clearly see the bumps of her spine protruding from her skin and she could immediately remember the softness of her flesh against her own, how her fingers had savored every inch of her skin.

She felt a sense of inquietude thinking she would have to damage her body, but then she reminded herself that it wouldn't even show: it was just a small pricking. She pressed the pointy quill on the small of her back, just above the hips, trying to be as gentle as she could.

Igraine stirred, but she didn't wake up.

Morgan let out the breath she didn't know she was holding and collected the small drop of blood with her thumb, then drew the covers up on the woman's naked body.

She rose from the bed and knelt in front of the fire, pouring everything she needed into the mortar, slowly mixing and smashing all the things she had collected from the closet. When it had become subtle dust, she emptied the content of the mortar into the cup and stirred the mixture with the blood-stained porcupine quill.

She stirred for what it seemed like hours, each swirl enhancing invisible energy that built from within her body. It expanded from her core to her limbs, crowding her head with blurred images of the past, present, and future, wolves at hunt, men dying on the battlefields, bloody crowns and broken swords, the sun chasing the moon in the sky and the night chasing the day in return.

When that infinite swirl of thoughts turned into a delicious nothingness, Morgan tried to ease her breaths, feeling both spent and elated. She gripped the cup with both hands and gulped avidly down its content, fearing some bitter taste she might not like.

She felt her stomach constricting and she fought off the urge to hurl. When Morgan finally could get a hold of herself, she smiled triumphantly, standing slowly onto her feet and leaving all her tools behind, soon forgotten on the rug.

She walked back toward the bed, her footsteps barely audible as she practically slid on the floor, striding lightly as she approached the sleeping woman like a wolf hunting into the woods. She stared, her eyes unmoving, and then finally sat on the edge of the mattress, a mischievous smirk deforming her lips.

Morgan drew the blankets from Igraine's body once again. The other stirred and turned her head to the other side, a peaceful expression still lingering on her face. The younger woman let her hand hover above her back, letting her skin absorb all that invisible energy reverberating from that body untouched by magic, so far.

Morgan allowed herself to finally touch her skin and her sharp nails grazed lightly between her shoulder blades and she trailed down, with an annoyingly slow pace, feeling every bump of her spine until she reached the small of her back, where she pressed deliberately more, just to switch back to her palm as Igraine started to wake up, and her hand would now just linger on her hip.

The younger woman stilled, her smile widening as she watched Igraine coming out from her slumber, turning lazily over, deliciously unafraid and dissolute to show Morgan her bare body. The other blinked, trying to catch any sign of repulsion or astonishment or both, as memories of the previous hours would surely come to her mind, but surprisingly, Igraine smiled back at her peacefully, looking as content as she could be.

Then, her face crumpled up with worry.

Morgan flinched, taken aback by that unexpected reaction.

"You're bleeding." Igraine simply stated, frowning with intent as she pulled herself into a half-sitting position to inspect her face from up close.

Morgan averted her glance; she felt something streaming down her cheek and she immediately put her hand over her face, wiping off some red tears with her fingers. She still felt the sticky fluid on her skin but tried not to show any discomfort.

"It's nothing." She reassured dismissively and leaned forward, her mouth already searching hers, eager to forget everything and enjoy the rest of the night in her company.

Igrane, however, proved herself to be much more alert than she awaited and escaped her kiss, continuing to stare right at her.

"Morgan, you're bleeding." She repeated, this time, her voice was stern and so was her glance.

Morgan felt her hand cupping her cheek, then she wiped off some more drops with her thumb. She looked at her without emotion as she studied the blood on her pad.

"It only happens when I use my gift." She explained, shrugging her shoulders dismissively. Morgan knew that maybe she should've avoided talking about her powers with her, but at that point, she didn't see why: Igraine knew what she could do and by now, she probably had guessed her affiliation with the dark forces easily. It wasn't something to be ashamed of. Her powers gave her strength and control, Igraine could only appreciate that quality.

The former queen frowned and blinked in befuddlement, and Morgan could also detect a pale shadow of fright into her eyes. It made her sad to see her scared of her, she shouldn't have been, not of her nor of her powers.

"Witchcraft?" She asked in a whisper, to which her voice cracked. Morgan wasn't sure if she had to confirm her words, or she had to explain to her what she was doing and why, so maybe she could understand and embrace everything she was. "Why did you use it?"

Morgan took a deep breath at those words, maybe that was a good start to explain. After all, they had the same purpose, they wanted the same things. And she knew that Igraine, despite her will to show otherwise, was drawn to her ideal kingdom just as much as she was; despite telling otherwise, she wanted to make it happen just as much as she wanted.

"Because you told me so." She revealed with an elated smile.

Igraine frowned even more, her brain struggling to put order into that bundle of swirling thoughts that were now crowding her mind. She had always recoiled at the mention of dark magic and sorcery; witches were burnt at the stake and she thought it was normal – then Merlin came and he was the first one that everyone accepted as gifted, showing her that not all magic was bad if used for the right cause.  
Morgan was different, she had always been different: she was using it to deceive people, to gain power and be victorious. All for the crown, for a kingdom that would be hers. Maybe her cause was right, but she wasn't using her gift in the right way, so how could she be the one to advise her to use sorcery or witchcraft?

"When?" She asked, almost out of breath. Her head was spinning and, for a moment, she feared Morgan was bewitching her with some sort of spell. She felt scared and worried, she wanted to run away and forget everything and yet her body didn't seem to move, her eyes constantly searching for her own, her very face enough for Igraine to be unwilling to go. Why did she have to be so complicated? "Morgan, what are you doing?"

The other continued to stare, her smile undying. If Igraine didn't know her, she would easily tell she was delusional, her whole person unreasonably happy when the situation was quite serious and grievous.

"I'm taking your advice, Igraine. _Y__ou_ told me how to become queen." Morgan simply stated, shifting closer to her, her blue eyes, completely black now, locked on the slight quivering of the other's pale lips. "This kingdom needs a leader, but most of all, it needs an heir. Someone with my strength and brain and with your heart and charm. Someone the whole Britannia will respect and trust."

Igraine was positively looking at her like she was delusional, Morgan didn't care but instead, something in her voice forced the former queen to stop and think. For a moment, she considered if she was indeed right if that was the solution to all their problems. She wished that Arthur had all those qualities, but he didn't and neither Morgan, for how much she tried, she could never suffocate her nature entirely – yes, a third part would've been ideal, but Morgan didn't seem willing to just produce an heir, she wanted _them_ to produce one, and that was impossible, if not insane. Was she just delusional or arrogant or both?

"Morgan, it doesn't work that way." She shook her head, trying to reason with her and yet the other seemed to be still so confident.

"Why?" She asked in a dim voice, drawing her face even closer to her. Igraine could feel her breath crashing against her slightly parted lips. "I can do anything, our fate is mine for the taking." Morgan shifted closer to her and her hands went to swiftly grab her face, cupping it firmly."Didn't you want a better Britannia? Can't you see how simple it is?"

Igraine could feel her nails stinging the back of her ears, but she didn't move. Of course, she wanted a peaceful and strong kingdom, somewhere the people could live happily and unafraid of what's to come. But that, it seemed impossible. Could she really do it? Was she really that gifted to be able to fulfill her most inconceivable wishes? Even create life itself? Merlin often talked about consequences, about personal pain and sufferance, Morgan never seemed to lament anything, not if it served to achieve her goal. She was so determined, much more than anyone at Camelot, and so beautifully fearless.

Igraine studied her face for a moment. She was so close to her that she could almost feel the heat of her body calling for hers. Could she really indulge her? See how far her powers could go? Taste if her magic could do miracles? Morgan, she could do anything if she wanted something bad enough.

"You're-" Igraine trailed off immediately, suddenly realizing that she didn't even know what she wanted to say. Was she about to join her or try to persuade her to take a different road? Was it even worth it, when she had already decided everything?

"Powerful." Morgan finished for her, a proud smile curving her lips, few inches apart from her own. "That's the word you're looking for." She said, her voice somewhat luring. "And with you by my side, I will also be invincible." Morgan paused, nibbling at her own lip as she drew herself even closer to the other woman's body. "Will you help me, Igraine? We'll build this kingdom together."

Igraine struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. At this point, she didn't even care if that woman in front of her was using magic tricks to deceive her, tempting her with speeches about a great future for Britannia just to get her to her side. Igraine already knew she was on her side and if Morgan would ask her, she would stay by her side too, for as long as she drew breath.

Igraine stared at her luscious lips, transfixed; then, she imperceptibly nodded.

"Yes." She whispered, breathing against her mouth. "I will." She stated and for the first time, it was Igraine to lean forward, searching blindly for her lips to kiss her.

Morgan immediately enhanced the contact, unwilling to lay hints and clues like she did the previous night, the first time they shared together. She wanted to have all and thus fulfill her will as she took everything from her, giving also everything in return.

Deep down, she knew she'd never hated Igraine. That woman always scared her, as her mother used to, in a way; but she wasn't her mother. She had been her father's wife and only now she realized that she envied her, her position, her dominance, which she showed quietly, with just a glance. Morgan envied her because deep down she wanted to be like her, but more: she didn't want to be just the king's wife, she wanted to become queen, period. And with Igraine by her side, she would become just that.

An heir with her strength who could charm even the strongest warrior with just a glare. A perfect leader for the most powerful nation that would ever exist.

Morgan didn't break the kiss, not even when her lungs were burning painfully, claiming for air. She pushed her body against Igraine's sighing as their skins melted together.

She finally pulled away, her breathing uneven as she stared into Igraine's clear eyes getting darker by the seconds. Morgan smiled, her lips parted, as her hands dropped from her face to her neck, tracing parallel paths as she moved along her arms until she reached her hands. Their fingers intertwined immediately and they both smiled at the perfect fit.

Morgan kissed her, nibbling lightly at her lower lip as she leaned against her, gently pushing her body back onto the mattress. They were both engulfed by a tangle of silky linens and furs and she would keep her hand in hers, secured in her hold as she pinned Igraine down on the bed.

She easily took over her, sliding gently above her until Morgan found herself straddling her naked body, which trembled in anticipation beneath her. She bent down to assault her mouth and moved almost right away, leaving Igraine panting in complain. Her lips cherished every inch of her heated skin, nibbling at her flesh as she explored her body, from her neck down to her chest.

Morgan pushed herself nearer to the other woman, causing their tender skins to glide together. She unwillingly squeezed Igraine's hips between her knees, making her slightly jolt forward, enhancing their closeness.

Igraine's eyes fell shut under the woman's administrations. She could almost hear her long nails gripping at the linens beyond her very hands, which would rustle under her claws. The former queen felt completely trapped and yet she had no wish to be free from such unexpected and pleasant restriction. She tugged with intent until Morgan finally gave in and released one of her hand.

Igraine immediately dug her fingers into her ebony locks, so luscious and soft against her skin. She drew her lips to her and kissed her passionately. Was she really doting a sorceress? The previous hours she spent by her side had been abashed, the very thought of being with her step-daughter, who threatened the lives of many, both recoiling and dangerously attractive. She had always been a woman of the light, while Morgan, she was a mistress of the dark.

How could she not be drawn by it? Even if it wasn't right, even if it wasn't honest, she wondered what would it feel like to actually win after weeks of planning, machinations, threats, deals, and deceptions, to overtake the enemy after hard work in the shadows with one special element that nobody could foresee. She could be part of the most successful plan in history. Arthur was never meant to be king and they weren't planning his murder – he would have a good position into her realm, maybe even Morgan's champion. She would love to have him under her grasp all the time, but for him, that would've been a blessing. Merlin would finally have his kingdom to supervise. Everyone would be fine. And if that wasn't just a great, insane lie, she would have finally had a child of her own to raise at somebody's side. Somebody who would treat her as equal, indispensable, even. Of course, Morgan would never lie about her only possibility to take the crown. How easy could be to believe her? She knew her powers, she knew her dedication, there was nothing she couldn't have. Was it so easy to be happy by her side? Would it last forever? She was certainly feeling happy now, within her embrace.

Wasn't fate strange or so incredibly ironic, that the girl who refused her love was now longing for it? That the woman who had feared was now the one cradling her, seeking for her kisses?

Morgan moved above her, the welcoming friction between their bodies enthralling, sending waves of delicious nothingness into her mind as a familiar, tingling sensation pooled at the pit of her stomach.

She gripped her hand tightly as she squirmed beneath her, eager to feel more. Igraine struggled to follow the rhythmic pace of her movements and took advantage of Morgan's temporary state of unconscious bliss to move her leg above her hip. She sighed at the new sensation and, immediately, Morgan's eyes snapped open, glimmering into the dark. Her mouth was parted into a silent gasp as she continued to glide above her, her speed increasing encouraged by the new closeness.

Igraine tugged again at her hair to join their lips into a burning kiss. Morgan gladly obliged her once again, slumping her body against hers as she strove to fight the waves of utter pleasure that shook her from within.

When she felt the woman tremble beneath her, she buried her face in the crook of her neck, finally welcoming the building heat from her core, letting it explode as she reached her peak, their hearts splendidly racing at the same, frantic speed.

Morgan searched blindly for her lips to kiss her again as she relaxed above her, completely spent. Igraine held her tightly as her breathing slowed down, then pulled the covers over their intertwined bodies.

Igraine stared at the dark ceiling as the fire crackled. Could that be it? She never felt she belonged there, at Castle Pendragon before, not with Uther by her side; but now, as Morgan drifted to sleep within her arms, her scented hair titillating her nose, she really felt home.

...

Igraine frowned when she woke up the morning after due to the sun. She imagined not to be very early because the light was rather strong, but not too late, for the castle seemed quite silent still. She inhaled deeply and found out she could breathe easily, so she reluctantly opened her eyes, just to realize that bed and most of all her arms were unpleasantly empty.

She searched for the discarded cloth hanging on the bedpost and wrapped herself in it; she intended to search for Morgan.

Igraine didn't have to wait long, because when she was about to exit the room, the door flew open and Morgan came in and closed at once the world outside those chambers.

Her feet were muddy, her hands red and covered in scratches, her thin camisole ripped at the end, and yet she was smiling contently, her blue eyes at complete peace.

"Where have you been?" Inquired the former queen, walking steadily to her. Of course, she already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from her lips. "Morgan-" She gasped when she finally closed distances with her: her left ear was bleeding copiously, the blood still streaming down her neck, staining the white clothe she was wearing.

"Yes?" She asked innocently, slipping one hand behind her neck, trying to pull her in into a kiss.

Igraine flinched back, gripping her shoulders tightly. She dug her fingers into her flesh, but Morgan stood immotile, glancing her back with a peaceful smile.

"You need to end this." Demanded Igraine, looking sternly into her eyes.

Morgan sighed, her face becoming more serious. Her hand moved from her neck to her cheek, cupping it reassuringly.

"End what?" She asked with a long breath.

It was Igraine's turn to cup her face. She drew her sleeve over her hand and used it to wipe off the blood from her neck and ear. Morgan let her, closing her eyes at each of her tender brush. The former queen sighed frustrated when she noticed that few drops of blood would still come out from her ear, undisturbed. She shivered: she didn't like when Morgan bled.

"I don't want to lose you." Igraine stated, a chill running up her spine. She'd never said anything like that before to anyone but Arthur and he was her son. Morgan was different. It wasn't a son to whom she was asking not to leave her, nor a parent or a friend, it was a lover.  
The thought didn't scare her, surprisingly: Morgan was her home now, not the Castle.

Her oath was to protect the people, Britannia, and therefore her.

The thing was, that it wasn't just politic any more.

Morgan resumed her smile and after a small hesitation, she hugged her, inhaling Igraine's faint scent of rose water.

"You won't." She whispered, trying to comfort her, but Igraine shook her head stubbornly: she knew better.

"I will," She replied. "if you keep that up." She paused and detached from her, just to be able to look into her eyes. "You did everything you needed to do, right?" Morgan didn't quite comprehend where the conversation was going, but she felt comfortable enough to nod once. "Then promise me you won't use your powers anymore. You don't need magic."

Morgan stared for what it seemed like an eternity. She fully considered her words.

She would become queen, she was more than her powers. She was stronger now and she would be victorious. It was just a little thing to give to Igraine. Besides, she had already had done everything in her powers, she'd tap into all her knowledge and invoked the forces to grant her wishes; it was now all in the hands of fate.

She gave Igraine a sincere smile, then she kissed her and made her pledge; she would keep her word, for her.

"I promise."


	6. The Final Match

Un-betaed. Please leave a review! :)

* * *

Chapter 6 – The Final Match

The following weeks went by pretty uneventful for all the people living inside Castle Pendragon, while outside, wars raged and new battles started almost every other day.  
Igraine wondered if it was Morgan's doing because the bandits seemed to be all over and much more than ever. She couldn't be sure and, frankly, she didn't care since nobody at Camelot seemed to returned hurt, so she warded the thought off, and even thank those bandits, at some point, because people from everywhere were seeking for Morgan's help.

In a matter of a few weeks, she gave orders to build a new village surrounding the castle, with stone walls higher than anyone had seen before. The more talented and agile joined the guards and the boys would be eager to serve Lady Morgan in exchange of a sword and a vessel to wear on their cape: everyone showed respect and felt incredibly honored to serve the future queen.

Everything seemed to go ahead according to plan because the people claimed her and they would proudly fight anyone who defended Arthur's right to the throne instead. The crown had to be gained with trust and loyalty, not with battles and conquest, they would say.

Igraine would always stay by her side, supervising and giving her advice, welcoming the dubious into the hearings, leading them to trials when they needed Morgan's judgment. She knew she had done bad things in the past, that she even used dark forces to her advantage and yet now, she was doing all on her own: shelter, protection, trials, projects for new villages, building a better Britannia as she'd promised. Even without magic, now, she had the people's total favor: the majority was with her, while the minority was destined to be extinguished as time passed.

Morgan was made for the crown. She would become the finest queen, one day, if there was justice in that world. Maybe her job would've been to keep her on the right path: Morgan didn't need magic when she had the people's support, nor when she had her love.

Igraine would often smile proudly by her side when she was having her daily hearings. Her decisions were just and she would always try to make the right thing. At that point, Igraine doubted she was following a hidden agenda: everything was on the plate and she had displayed all her cards. Except for the one that would definitely tip the balance.

Everything seemed to go smoothly and steadily, every day quite static as they solved the people's problems, eat at the Pendragon's table as they planned the future villages, or mill, or a better training program for the growing army, or repairing the old well so that the farmers could work easily the wheat.

"We could use some more oxen to pull the plow, Lady Morgan." Was telling the farmer's representative, knelt before the throne. She had asked more than once not to kneel for her, but some of them would do that anyway. "We scheduled rotations for the fields like you suggested milady, and we're ready to expand, we need men to work the land."

Morgan drew a satisfied breath and Igraine could imagine that, inside, she was gloating for the new success. She was proving herself a valiant leader for the whole reign, able to decide the fate of an army as well of a field's.

"Granted." Morgan conceded, then turned to a group of emaciated boys coming from the sea, who had just been saved after their ship had crashed; judging from their looks, they would've been sold as slaves. "You'll take them under your wing, teach them the craft. If they're fine with it, of course." She added, sweetening her tone. "You will be given a home and a job, but you will be free to go whenever you desire." She reminded. Those men immediately agreed, exchanging sympathetic glances with their new chief.

Igraine smiled and lowered her eyes to watch Morgan's satisfied expression. It was like if she could sense her glance on her because her head tilted up and her blue eyes met her own. She looked like a child seeking for a parent's praise and she would've given it to her if her heart hadn't dropped in the pit of her stomach at the sight of the small thread of blood coming from her nose.

"Morgan!" Igraine hurriedly leaned toward her, trying her best to shield her face from the rest of the court. She hadn't been quick enough to prevent Sybil from seeing that, but she had been smart enough not to make a sound.

"What?" She asked the woman confused, her eyes wandering around embarrassed as the people started to whisper in alarm.

Igraine threw her a preoccupied look.

Morgan didn't have to wait long before she could feel the metallic taste breaching into her mouth through her lips.

"Milady, you're bleeding!" Cried the farmer in alarm and suddenly the whole court fell into chaos.

Morgan panicked for an instant, causing more blood to pour from her nose.

Igraine wrapped her arm around her shoulders as she guided her out of the great hall, for once glad for the nun's presence, who tried to calm down the worried crowd as they walked away. Morgan leaned into her hold as she covered her face with her hand, her eyes wide open as she strived to understand what might've caused the bleeding.

Igraine guided her protectively into her chambers and locked the door behind them. Thousands of thoughts were crowding her brain right now, but she ably pushed them all back as she looked for a clean towel to dip into the water bucket next to the tub. She walked steadily toward Morgan and urged her to move her hand. She sighed in relief when she noticed that the bleeding had already stopped, but her face looked considerably paler.

The former queen glared, angrily cleaning her skin from her blood and throwing the towel somewhere behind her. Morgan flinched and closed her eyes.

Igraine tightened her jaw: she couldn't believe she would do something like that. There could be no other explanations; but she needed to know, she needed to ask and she needed to hear the confession from her mouth.

"Morgan, did you break our promise?" She straightforwardly inquired, her eyes demanding, but also bearing the opaque shadow of disappointment. Morgan felt hurt by that accusation tone. She shook slightly her head and folded her arms on her chest, holding her elbows tightly. "I told you, you don't need those powers anymore!"

"I didn't." She barked back, starting to pace unquietly around the room, tracing a small path around the bed. "I haven't used my powers in a long time."

Igraine reconsidered her thoughts immediately. As strange as it seemed, considering the evidence, she trusted her words: she was able to lie to anyone, but her.

"Then what is it?" She asked, her voice cracking as the anger got replaced by worry once again. She walked to her and blocked her way, so Morgan stopped her pacing. Igraine cupped her face with both hands, forcing her to look up. Her eyes had gotten misty and circled in dark halos, her skin paler than usual and she felt rather warm too. It was so strange since she seemed to look fine only minutes early. "You don't look well." She stated.

"I'm perfectly fine." She retorted, her voice sounding as fierce as ever.

Igraine studied her face, suddenly frozen. What was she trying to tell her? She had never doubted the extent of her determination, nor the strength of her powers: she wouldn't have dared. So the woman stared, wondering silently if Morgan's plan was really taking shape.

She only got a crooked smirk as the answer.

...

Days bled into weeks and everything seemed to have gone back to normal. The people would fuss around Morgan, offering gift and promoting dairies from their farms and wheat from their fields, claiming that they would improve her health, even if she had no signs of illness and she was strong and active as ever.

Sybil would be heard less and less, much to Igraine's delight: she could never suffer the nun's arrogance and confidence since she had been charged to kept her in chains as Morgan infiltrated into Camelot. It seemed like it happened a lifetime ago.

Now it was her job to stay by the throne and Morgan would listen to her and they would talk at nights, about the future of Britannia, as long as theirs. She grew very protective over Igraine and she would often glare at anyone who tried to patronize her, claiming she was no longer queen. If she were a man, everyone would call Morgan a mistress in the most despicable terms, yet Igraine was not a man, so everyone accepted them as they unquestioned the nun's presence in the past. After all, Igraine had been there before and was still Morgan step-mother, so she could easily hide behind that title.

Everything seemed to go on so well it was suspicious and she needed to know exactly what Morgan had in mind, so she could know how to behave. They were so close to the final strike: what would their next move be?

She entered Morgan's chambers as they were her own – and in fact they were, lately – and asked politely everyone to leave: they hadn't seen Arthur, nor received news from him in weeks, while the furthest lands got attacked regularly by bandits and increasing number of people would flood at Castle Pendragon to seek protection, which was immediately granted along with promises of a better future, jobs, and houses to live in.

She took the towel from Vivian as the maid left the room and walked steadily toward the tub, where Morgan was still laying, the water engulfing her completely as she kept her eyes closed, her fingers gripping eagerly the edges of the tub. The shape of her naked body flickered on the plain surface, thin ripples forming as she imperceptibly moved; she looked asleep, and yet Igraine could feel her senses alert, studying everything in complete silence.

"You shouldn't stay there, Morgan." She said with a melodious and yet patronizing voice. At those words, she fixed her eyes on the water, sure that she could spot the smallest bubbles coming up. "Can't be good for you."

A large bubble joined the others and soon Morgan emerged, gasping for air.

Igraine hurried to her side, her preoccupied look expectedly concealed behind a disapproving yet sympathetic smirk.

"Sybil says it's for self-control." Morgan replied with a chocked voice, glaring at her.

Igraine sighed, that nun made no sense according to her, but she couldn't show her real feelings; she chose not to say anything right away and rather focused on Morgan as she finished with her bath. She helped rinse her body and wrung her hair to get rid of the excess water, then she followed her closely toward the mirror.

She studied Morgan as she studied herself when she let the towel fall from her body; she was looking at her own reflection with a hint of a childish frown, her head tilted to the side as she inspected her skin and curves.

"Don't you think you are in control of yourself?" Whispered suddenly Igraine, mimicking her moves as she tried to see what she was seeing. The former queen sighed, feeling defeated as her eyes didn't seem able to catch any flaw on her, which Morgan could clearly see and deprecate.

"I'm unstable, lately." She stated sorrowfully with a long sigh. "I can't let my emotions ruin everything." Morgan reminded.

Igraine frowned, settling herself right behind her, watching her reflection from behind her shoulder and their eyes locked together.

"You're afraid of losing control." The older woman stated. How can such a sorceress of her abilities be worried? Yes, one day she would have to encounter Arthur and Merlin to decree the future of Britannia, the fulfilment of her machinations, the end of that fratricidal war, and still, the fact that she was anxious, showed Igraine that Morgan cared, that she was human, that she was afraid to fail, in the end. Why doubt, though, when they were so close, when she was about to finally wear the crown? All those things she'd done, useless? She couldn't let that happen. "Don't be." She whispered, her breath slightly caressing her neck as Igraine wrapped her arms around her slender body. It was a perfect fit and she couldn't help the little smile that crept through her lips when she felt Morgan relax into her embrace and slowly closing her eyes.

Igraine laid a soft kiss on her neck and let her hands wander around her still slippery skin. She watched through the reflection in the mirror her own movements, her eyes fixed on Morgan's face to catch her every reaction as she moved her fingers in ghostly brushes around her chest. Her already full bosom had gained some more roundness now and she decided not to tease her overmuch in fear she might've hurt her, so her hand trailed down, leaving a tender circle around her somewhat firmer stomach. They both smiled and sighed when Igraine didn't stop, continuing to graze her fingers further down, to her most sensitive area. She gave her a steady stroke there, basking into Morgan's scent and the heat reverberating from her naked flesh as her breathing became more erratic and confused.

Morgan turned her head as much as she could, searching blindly for her lips to kiss her. Igraine obediently and gladly obliged her, mimicking the movements of her hand with her tongue until she felt her tremble into her embrace, her hips buckle on their own accord as she leaned further into her palm, seeking for more friction. Morgan felt her knees giving in as she indulged the other woman's ministrations, completely ravished as her mind went deliciously blank for what it seemed like forever. She reached behind her and dug her fingers into Igraine's chestnuts hair, tugging slightly as she regained her normal breathing.

"Better?" Asked Igraine, murmuring against her neck. "You mustn't be afraid of losing control, Morgan. It's not necessarily a bad thing, you know." She smiled mischievously, pecking her skin. "I will always be at your side." She promised and the other nodded, swallowing the small lump in her throat.

When she was sure she had regained complete control over herself, Morgan snapped her eyes open, her pupil still dilated, but incredibly firm and focused. She stared at them, their bodies intertwined as they drew strength and energy from one another.

"Then I'll be finally able to take what is mine." She leaned further into her hold and smiled viciously. "Have my dear brother summoned, I'll tell him the good news today."

...

Arthur arrived in the late afternoon with Merlin and few of his fellow knight companions. They greeted each other as nothing happened and Igraine watched from up close at the two siblings interacted, smiling inside as she thought of the concealed leverage Morgan would reveal in good time.

It was a real disappointment, as well as a confirmation of his shallowness, seeing Arthur so tranquil when the northern lands had been attacked just the previous day and so many other battles were raging everywhere in the lands.

Morgan took him on the balcony, where all the lands surrounding Castle Pendragon were visible, the outline of the high protective walls standing bold against the darkening sky, casting long shadows above villages in constructions, as well the ones of the farmer working on the fields or the sheep running up the hills. Igraine smiled, drawing a peaceful breath as she watched Morgan basking into her little victory of Arthur staring astonished her progress.

"You're building a new Camelot, here." He marveled and turned to Merlin, frowning at him in complain. "Why aren't we building villages around Camelot as well?"

"First you need to make people know you for your quests." Glared Merlin, moving his head and tongue in slow movements, making him resembling a serpent.

"We only have different approaches, Arhtur." Smiled Morgan sweetly, gripping his upper arm into what it seemed like a reassuring squeeze.

"You have accomplished much more than we have so far." He retorted, sighing loudly.

Igraine couldn't agree more, and Morgan also, she was sure. As far as they knew, they only assembled a stronger and larger army of knights and slightly improved their income regarding food supplies; but they had no organization for the people seeking for shelter, nor daily hearings or trials to keep the land in peace.

Merlin sighed nervously, but Morgan smiled at them both, looking as innocent as ever.

"Don't think about it right now. Come." She said sweetly, sliding her hand under his arm. "I summoned you because I need to talk to you, my dear brother: I know you're struggling." Arthur frowned, looking confused. He seemed on the verge to talk her back, but she spoke first. "Don't worry: I'll load off your mind."

"What do you mean, sister?" He breathed out in a curious whisper. Morgan didn't answer.

"Do you play chess?" She asked back, eyeing the board with impatient glare, which only matched her childish grin.

Arthur studied her for a moment, then he obliged her.

Igraine took her place opposite to Merlin, right at Morgan's side as he stood beside his king. They seemed two enemies studying each other before the war, the sorcerer's stare serious and alarmed as much as hers and Morgan's were peaceful. Arthur seemed happily unaware of everything surrounding him as he moved first – of course, Morgan had chosen to go second, taking the blacks. It was all so obvious. If she wasn't playing a part for the greater good, Igraine would've smacked her son right in the face, trying to wake him up; now more than ever she was glad she'd chosen to stay at Morgan's side.

"What did you want to talk about, Morgan?" He asked, his eyes fixed on the table.

"How things are going at Camelot?" She retorted, moving her pawn.

"Things proceed steadily." He shrugged, not completely persuaded by his own words.

The game proceeded quite uneventful: whites and blacks dueling into a battle that never seemed to end. Arthur would take some of Morgan's pawns and she, in a matter of a couple of rounds, would catch up, trying a different strategy.

"I heard you're planning on expanding west." She sighed, concealing a smirk.

"Those lands are unprotected and they need rules." Replied Arthur automatically. Morgan wondered if that was something Merlin told him to say whenever someone would ask about this decision. "They also need to know that their king is there to help them."

"Like you're helping Bardon Pass right now?" She snapped, her eyes suddenly bright.

Arthur swallowed. They both knew that there was a siege at the pass and men were fighting there for two weeks now; as a king, he should've been there.

"My men will defeat those bandits." Replied Arthur with confidence, but that quick glance he immediately threw at Merlin, who nodded in agreement, didn't go unnoticed.

Morgan and Igraine also exchanged a glance, but theirs was followed by a smirk: Arthur's defenses were shaking and he would fall soon. He cleared his throat and moved the knight.

Igraine watched the two siblings with the corner of her eye, while she kept staring at Merlin as he studied the match. It was like he knew something was wrong, that that chess game wasn't just a game but something more and Igraine would silently gloat as the sorcerer struggled to get to the bottom of it. Something quite impossible to achieve, of course. How could he guessed correctly when she herself still didn't believe it completely?

"You're through, Arthur." Morgan suddenly whispered, her clear eyes fixed on the board.

Igraine focused, straightening her back as Arthur frowned, studying the board with a puzzled expression. Merlin fidgeted, shifting his glance from the two women and the king, searching for hints.

"Morgan?" Arthur stammered, gaping in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Suddenly, it was partially clear that the chess game wasn't the subject of debate anymore.

"Bardon pass is falling as we speak." She said peacefully, making her move. Arthur gaped, his eyes quickly fixing on the eastern horizon, where a dense smoke was rising, abusing the bright colors of the sunset. "My men will get it back at dawn, the day after tomorrow. It's already settled."

Merlin glared, slamming his open hands on the little table. The board quivered, making Morgan throwing a surprised glance at him, as she faked some sort of mute admonish.

"What did you do?" He hissed.

"Nothing. You always try to fight the enemy from the front, isn't that right?" She sighed, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance. Neither of the two men answered, silently confirming her words. "We simply have a better tactic. We'll surprise them from both sides when they least expect it."

"Serpent, what did you do?" Spat Merlin again, his eyes unblinking.

"Don't be rude." Admonished Morgan, staring back. "Your army of knights is the best Camelot can offer and, as you see, they're not even that good, nor effective."

"We build a kingdom through right-thinking people, while you deceive and threat." Merlin retorted.

Morgan snorted, averting her eyes on her brother. He was merely panting in his chair, his little brain struggling to function in front of the painful truth.

"I merely did what has to be done." Replied Morgan confidently, leaning back into her chair as she sighed. Igraine walked slowly closer to her, feeling that it was time. "As you can see, we can offer everything you offer, only a better version of it."

Arthur stared, Merlin was fuming, but stood silent, feeling there was more to come. He wasn't mistaken, clever and yet so terribly clueless sorcerer.

"Winning a battle won't make you queen, dear sister." Arthur finally spoke, his voice low and quivering.

Morgan pursued her lips, nodding slowly.

"You're right. But I can also offer something you're not able to give the people: a lineage." She finally revealed.

Igraine watched closely as Arthur and Merlin looked around confused, then, their faces crumpled up in shock and she followed their gaze. She couldn't help but smile at the image of Morgan, gracefully seated on her chair as if it was a throne, the golden empire dress she chose casually emphasizing her waistline. She was still at a very early stage and yet, being so slender, she was already showing a quite unmistakable bump.

"Are you with child?" Merlin spat in horror. "And whose spawn that abomination is?"

Igraine tightened her jaw, unconsciously glaring at him.

"Stop being so rude, Merlin." Mocked Morgan, rolling her eyes almost diverted by his words.

"Tell me, who's the father?" Hissed the sorcerer, his eyes narrow, waiting for an answer.

Igraine felt a pang at the pit of her stomach but wasn't able to determine the origin of it. She stepped closer to Morgan, shifting casually behind her chair and leaning one hand above her shoulder. The two men in front of them seemed to struggle to wake themselves up from a nightmare, poor souls couldn't even realize what was really going on.

"Answer me, witch!" Yelled Merlin.

"You know better than me that it does not matter, sorcerer." Morgan retorted with a defiant eye and a faint challenging smirk.

Igraine could see him grasping at straws, trying to find the smallest loophole to turn the tables, but there were none: Morgan herself was what it mattered, her bloodline solely was sufficient to ensure inheritance to the Pendragon throne.

Merlin growled frustratedly.

"That thing," He said, his voice incredibly unstable as he pointed his forefinger at Morgan, his eyes warning. "is going to kill you."

Morgan sighed, snorting.

"I doubt it." She said, tilting her head. Igraine unconsciously squeezed her shoulder with her long fingers; Morgan smiled.

"How do you know it's a boy?" Asked Arthur, completely befuddled.

"I know." Morgan stated simply. The poor puppet was still struggling to comprehend magic and their powers, so Merlin had clearly failed him in matters of warning against dark forces since he didn't have the latest idea of the potential of sorcery, especially when the enemy was Morgan.

Igraine strived to keep her composure. She should've felt sympathies for her son's panicked state, but his lost eyes and erratic breaths only confirmed her that he wasn't ready to face the brutal word on his own.

Arthur turned around several times, panting when Merlin let out a defeated sigh and walked away from the table, running his hands over his head.

"Can she do that?" He asked sheepishly. His disbelieving eyes made him look even younger than he already was.

Merlin stopped his pacing, looking straight into the king's eyes as he nodded once, now finally defeated.

"She can." He murmured. "And she did."

Morgan hardly suppressed a taunting snort.

"It's nothing personal Arthur, but you must understand that the crown is mine by birthright. I just assured myself that right." Morgan explained, her voice calm and fierce. "The future and legitimate king will grow to be the best leader. Neither of us has been raised by Igraine, but he will." Igraine looked at her, meeting her eyes as the other tilted up her head, squeezing the hand on her shoulder with hers. She smiled and then turned back to Arthur, her expression serious again. "My son will have the best sides of us. He'll be both strong and brave, clever and honorable. Something we can never be, brother." She said. "One day, he will be crowned as king and in the meanwhile, I will supervise the kingdom in his behalf."

"It's for the best, Arthur." Igraine spoke softly, pleading her son with her eyes. Arthur stared at her, unable to reply, utterly confused and lost.

Merlin resumed his unquiet pacing, mumbling things impossible to comprehend until Arthur looked for him, asking for an explanation, to find something they could to subvert that perfectly planned machination.

"Morgan has already the people's favor while you lose supporters every day. With a son to pass the crown to, the people will claim her as the queen without any second thought. You will be deposed by the will of the people." He told, putting in words every Morgan's plans; she couldn't have done better herself. "Soon, only knights will remain at Camelot and perhaps not even them. As queen, Morgan will claim their services and many of them will answer: Leontes, Brastias, Ulfius, they'll come here and serve the crown as they serve you now."

"But there must be something we can do." Attempted Arthur with a dim voice.

"She has already won, Arthur." Hissed Merlin through his clenched teeth, all the time glaring at Morgan. "You can't compete with that."

Morgan sported a proud smirk on her lip. She sighed and straightened her back, still gently gripping Igraine hand in hers.

"Don't be upset Arthur." She breathed, surprisingly and suspiciously reassuring. "I told you it's not personal. I'm still your sister and in behalf of your mother's loyalty and love," She said, trailing off just to kiss the back of Igraine's hand. "I will offer you the opportunity to become my champion. You should take it, brother: we'll make a fine team."

Igraine struggled to maintain her impassible glance. At that point, she knew that Morgan was trying to tease Arthur with anything she had – she could feel him wondering, fidgeting uneasily on his chair as disturbing and yet so truthful thoughts crowded his mind.  
Merlin was wondering just the same, and they were both correct.

Morgan gave him a vicious smile, undisturbed. "Oh, would you look at that." She said triumphantly, clicking her tongue as she leaned forward. Her long nails clink as she grabbed one of her last black pawn standing. "Queen takes King. Checkmate."


End file.
